


i may snap

by ToAStranger



Series: Elastic [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Is Alive, Fluff, Gen, Pre-Slash, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-09
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-03-17 02:22:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3511673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToAStranger/pseuds/ToAStranger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After everything, Stiles doesn't say a word.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i may snap

After their  _moment_ , of sorts, Peter grows callous.  Stiles isn’t surprised.  Or if he is, he doesn’t show it. 

Stiles is very good at pretending things haven’t happened.  It’s one of those things that Peter has noticed about him over time, has come to admire about him, among many of Stiles’ other little quirks—though mostly the more insensitive little ticks, the crassness with which he spoke, the touches of dark that Peter enjoyed so very much.  Stiles acts as if the entire situation never occurred when Peter refuses to acknowledge it himself. 

Peter’s not really sure if he’s grateful or not.

The touches don’t stop though.  If anything, they grow more frequent and more bold.  Even their oblivious little Alpha has started to notice.

Peter grits his teeth through it.  Through the warmth that spreads through his chest when Stiles wraps his fingers around Peter’s wrist.  When Stiles nudges into his shoulder as he points something out to him.  When Stiles laughs and pats Peter amiably on the back after he’s said something particularly biting. 

It feels almost like it’s a game.  That Stiles is playing with him, is playing with the rest of the pack, is playing with fire.  Peter wonders if he’ll stop once he’s burned. 

He hopes that he doesn’t.

“Come check this out,” Stiles says, leaning over a yellowing text, hands pressed on either side of the book as his eyes skim over the pages avidly.

Peter doesn’t move.

Stiles glances over at him, giving him a hard look.  “Dude.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Rolling his eyes, Stiles looks back down at the text.  “Seriously, come on.  It’s important.”

Peter sighs, heading over; hip pressing to the edge of the dinner table, his gaze drifts down to the page Stiles’ is looking at.  His brows lift.  “A Selminth demon?”

“Parasite.”

“It’s a type of _parasitic_ demon?” Peter frowns.  “Stiles, are you serious?”

Stiles shrugs a shoulder, looking up at him.  “It fits.”

“Are you sure?”

Stiles nods, twisting to face him and licks his lips.  “The bite is the same.  Each victim has vivid hallucinations—and the venom is strong enough to affect other supernatural creatures.”

“Which explains why the new mutt lost it,” Peter nods. 

Stiles grins, clapping a warm hand over Peter’s bicep.  “Exactly.”

Peter frowns at him, eyes flitting down at his hand and then back up.  Stiles doesn’t stop smiling.  There’s that heat in Peter’s chest, and he bites back the urge to lean into the touch. 

“Stiles.”

“Hm?”

“Get your hand off of me before I bite it off.” Peter says pleasantly, smile a bit manic.

Stiles pops his lips, giving his arm a little squeeze before letting go.  “Right.  I’ll call Derek and let him know.”

“You do that.”

* * *

“Huh.  Imagine seeing you here.” Stiles says as he plops down across from him at the café.

Peter grins tightly over at him.  “Yes, please, sit down.  Not like I was waiting for someone.”

“Pshhh, _you_?” Stiles snorts into his coffee as he takes a long, slow drag.  “Who would meet with you?”

Peter doesn’t give him a reply. 

Stiles just smiles, nudging at Peter’s shin with the toe of his shoe.  “C’mon, Peter, lighten up.  You’ve been walking around with a stick up your ass ever since—“

Peter’s gaze narrows.  “ _Stiles_.”

“Easy,” Stiles chuckles, holding up his hands.  “I was gonna say ever since you rose from the dead.  Did that hurt by the way?”

Huffing out a sigh, Peter focuses on the newspaper in his hands.  “Very much.”

Stiles just hums.

A moment of silence passes.  Peter thinks he might actual have a second of peace.  Stiles nudges at his knee instead.

“So what are you doing?”

“Enjoying this lovely day,” Peter remarks glibly.  “Or I was.  Until you got here.”

“Oh, come on, Petey—“

Peter catches Stiles’ ankle as he nudges again, eyes flashing dangerously over at him.  “I  _will_  break it.”

Stiles swallows.  “Right.”

He holds it for another long second, and his jaw clenches as he releases Stiles.  “Get gone.”

“Getting gone.”

* * *

“Peter.”

He holds the omega against the tree, claws digging in. 

“ _Peter_.”

His fangs grow, elongate, eyes glowing blue even in the dim light of the dusk.

“Peter,  _stop_.” Stiles presses a hand between his shoulder blades. 

There’s heat there.  Light.  Peter’s shoulders slump and he presses back into it.

The omega is struggling, gasping wetly, and Peter can feel the rest of the pack staring at him in something like shock and horror.  He remembers hearing one of the girls gasp—maybe Erica—when he’d dug his claws into the little stray’s side.  Peter almost wants to laugh.  He didn’t know he could shock them anymore. 

His fingers flex.  Stiles’ hand is gentle at his back, and he feels his thumb brush along his spine.  He lets go.

Peter breathes out heavily.  He glances over, eyes skimming Malia carefully, seeing the gash across her ribs is already healing seamlessly.  His jaw works.

“Get your hand off of me, Stiles.” Peter says, voice gruff.

He does.  Peter doesn’t look back as he walks away.

* * *

“You’re gonna keep doing this, aren’t you?” Peter asks.

Stiles looks at him from across the table, right cheek squished up against a fist.  “Doin’ what?”

“Hovering.  _Touching_.”

Stiles’ brow lifts.  “I thought we weren’t talking about it.  Like _aggressively_ not talking about it.”

“Are you going to stop or not?”

“Nope.” Stiles shakes his head, sitting up straight.  “That a problem?”

Peter sighs heavily, pushing to his feet. He moves closer; Stiles watches, gaze careful on him, as Peter drags his fingertips over the table top.  Once he reaches him, he lifts his hand, fingers sliding along Stiles’ jaw.

“Not at all.”

Stiles’ lips part.

Peter smiles, and it’s sharp as he cants his head.  “Just expect it back from now on.”

Stiles’ eyes flash playfully.  “Is that so?”

“Yes.”

He grins.  “I think I can handle that.”

Peter returns the look.  “Good.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Find the original more shitty version here: 
> 
> http://doesitlooklikeiwantedtoknowthat.tumblr.com/post/94792750947/holy-jeez-can-we-get-more-touch-starved-peter-please


End file.
